


Talk to me/Let me hear you

by LaughingStones



Series: God what even 'verse [4]
Category: Motorcity
Genre: Aftercare, Anxiety, Blindfolds, Bondage, Chuck prefers to keep his pants on, Chuck’s oral fixation, Dirty Talk, Fantasizing, M/M, Mike is silent during sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Subspace, Talking someone into coming, These boys have no idea what they're doing, but they take care of each other anyway, dom/sub switches, lowkey dom/sub dynamics, subconscious triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7908595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingStones/pseuds/LaughingStones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike wants to try something! Chuck is convinced this will go badly. (It goes fine.)<br/>Chuck also wants to try something. Mike is enthused! (It turns out to be harder than he expected.)</p><p>In which Mike and Chuck are kinky little beasts without really noticing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk to me/Let me hear you

They're lying on their sides kissing, getting slowly hotter, working their way up to doing something about it but not there yet when Mike pulls back and smiles at Chuck.

“I got an idea. You up for this?”

“That depends,” Chuck says in a suspicious tone.

He's so cute Mike has to lean in to kiss him again and kinda forgets what he was saying for a moment because when he taught Chuck to kiss Chuck learned it _good_. Mike pulls back a few minutes later breathing faster. “Uh. What--? Oh yeah. I want to see if I can really make you come just by talking to you,” he explains, and Chuck makes a stifled noise and then groans.

“You can, okay? You definitely can, there, mystery’s all cleared up! Can we move on?”

“Don't think so, buddy. See, that's crazy levels of hot, and I want to see it. Like, really really want to. You want me to beg I totally will.”

Chuck does that thing where he goes red and sort of freezes for a long minute. Then he thumps his forehead against Mike's collarbone and whimpers. “Mikey, why do you have to _say_ shit like that?”

Mike winces at the curse. “Chuck…”

“Right, yeah, sorry--but seriously, bro, it won't be hot. It'll be embarrassing!”

“ _Will_ be?” Mike grins, distracted from what Chuck’s actually saying. (Yeah, he should probably know better by now than to overlook Chuck’s anxiety, but Mike's an optimistic guy. Can't help being hopeful.) “Does that mean you agree?”

Chuck groans and thunks his head down again--his bangs don't make much of a cushion, ow. Good thing Mike doesn't mind bruises. “ _God_ ,” Chuck mutters. “No! Okay, you think it'll be hot for some weird reason because you're crazy, so maybe it won't bother you, but meanwhile I'll be dying! Despite how often it happens, I don't actually _enjoy_ humiliating myself!”

Mike bites his lip because, okay, that kinda stings. He doesn't want to humiliate Chuck, that sounds awful. It's just that Mike has never really understood why some people get embarrassed over feeling good. Like, if they feel good in a way they think is wrong, they get all twisted up about it and then no one has any fun. Why do people say ‘okay during sex you can put your fingers here but not there, that's a bad thing that only bad people do’ and other people believe them? It straight up makes no sense.

Chuck sighs. “Sorry. That's not what I--I didn't mean you won't mind if I'm embarrassed. I know you don't get what it feels like, I just…” He shakes his head against Mike, falling silent.

Mike takes a minute to think about it. “What is it exactly that's embarrassing about the idea?”

Chuck shrugs, hunched shoulders twitching briefly higher. “Coming from someone just talking? It makes it seem like you can't control yourself. Like you're so desperate you don't even need to be touched to go off. Like you're secretly still a skinny, weedy, pimple-faced thirteen-year-old and--”

“Whoa,” Mike says softly, touching his lips to cut off the self-aimed vitriol. “Rein that in, dude. Do you actually believe that, or are you worried I will? Because you've got massive amounts of self-control and I _know_ that.”

Chuck raises his head and eyes Mike through his bangs. He pauses, then nods. “I know. It's just what it feels like.”

“So, how you feel about it, not what you're afraid I think,” Mike says, and Chuck nods confirmation. “Okay. Anything else?”

Chuck hides his face against Mike's shoulder. “It makes me feel too easy,” he says in a near whisper.

Mike is pretty clear the correct answer to this is not ‘Wow, trust me, you're really not,’ because he knows Chuck would hear ‘You're so hard to deal with it's a pain in the ass’ and not the reassurance it's supposed to be, so he carefully doesn't say it. “Huh,” he says instead. “Okay. So what if every time you get close, you tell me and I stop talking? Give you a minute to cool down, get control before I start again? Or, I dunno, there anything you can think of that might take some of that pressure off you?”

Chuck is quiet a long moment. “You're really interested in this, huh.”

“Yeah. I think it'd be amazing. But if it's going to be bad for you, that's not gonna work, so just let me know and I'll forget about it.”

Chuck lets out a slow breath. “Okay,” he says eventually. “I might have an idea or two. But in exchange, um. I get to suggest something _I_ want to do, and you have to say if it's okay or not.”

“Hey, anything you want, Chuckles, you know that!”

“No,” Chuck mumbles, “you have to hear what it is first.”

Mike shrugs the shoulder he's not lying on. “Okay, lay it on me.”

Chuck leans in and says something against Mike's neck, low and quick, words tumbling over each other. It takes a minute to untangle them into a request and then his eyes go wide. “Are you kidding? Heck _yes!_ ”

“Are you _sure_ ,” Chuck insists, and Mike laughs, incredulous.

“I get to say sexy stuff to you and then be at your mercy? Yeah, man, I'm really completely sure! That sounds incredible.”

“We'll see what you think when we get there,” Chuck says, sounding resigned.

\---

Chuck’s face is flushed under the blindfold and his hands twitch against the hold of the soft cords Mike used to tie him down. Mike wasn't sure about that at first, but Chuck was insistent, mumbled something about having control _taken_ from him instead of just losing it. So okay, if it'll help him, Mike can do it.

His pants are still on, which is usual during sex until the very last minute, but he's shirtless and already breathing faster. Mike is naked, as Chuck specified, sitting cross-legged beside him without touching.

“You look amazing,” Mike says softly. “God, you're so sexy.”

Chuck shifts a little, looking mildly uncomfortable but not as upset as he used to get when Mike said stuff like that, which is serious progress. Mike figures if he just keeps telling him a bit at a time all the things Mike likes about him, eventually they'll wear down the flinch reflex entirely and maybe he'll even start to believe some of it.

“Uh, bro?” Chuck says uncertainly, and Mike realizes he's been staring at Chuck’s narrow chest, watching the pink flush spread over his pale skin.

“Sorry, buddy, got distracted. You look really good like this, I was enjoying the scenery.”

Chuck’s mouth crimps in that way Mike recognizes as ‘You're telling me nice lies again and I know I should appreciate it but it hurts’. Mike sighs silently, shoves away his own pang of hurt and focuses.

“Hey, did I ever tell you I figured out how to shut off my gag reflex?”

“...No?” Chuck says, obviously confused.

Mike grins, watching him. “Yup. Means I can put you down my throat, let you pound my mouth until I have to beg for air.”

Chuck’s whole body jerks as he gasps, tugging at the ties on his wrists. “Oh my _god_ , Mikey!” he says, voice high and cracking. Even as his face flushes darker, he sounds unnerved. “That'd _choke_ you though! I don't--I don't want to hurt you.”

Crap, misstepped already. Mike bites his lip, looking for the right thing to say. “I’d like it, though,” he tries. “I mean, I'd tell you when I needed to breathe, I just--”

Chuck is shaking his head, disturbed, and Mike should probably just move on except now he really wants to get this across, suddenly needs to be sure Chuck understands this one thing about him.

“Look, you know how you like me to bite you sometimes? And it hurts, but you _like_ that?” He pauses, waits until Chuck nods cautiously, blushing down to the shoulders. “It's like that. I like bein’ pushed around sometimes. Or, a lot of the time, I guess.” He takes a breath, lets it out. “Being treated a little rough, y’know? Being _used_. It feels good, I like it. It's a rush, but kind of relaxing at the same time, I can't--can't really explain it I guess. But if _you_ were pushing me around and using me, it'd be--god, Chuck, I'd probably come so fast.”

“Mikey you are completely insane,” Chuck says in a shaky voice, but from the way his body is shifting on the bed it's a good sign this time. “You--no one should be so crazy and so hot at the same time.”

Mike grins, relieved. “Aw, you know you like me this way.”

Chuck lets out a wavering sigh and shakes his head, but not in disagreement. His nipples are standing up and Mike almost reaches out to rub one before he remembers what he's supposed to be doing.

“So can I talk about that, or is that too weird to be a turn-on?”

Chuck swallows. “You can--talk about it. Just… don't talk about me hurting you. Or I guess you can, but--say what you’d like about it?”

“I can totally do that.” Mike shifts a little; he's hard, but he agreed not to do anything about that himself. Mike’s a patient guy, he can wait until Chuck can help him out. “So, I want to go on my knees so you can use my mouth. Put your hands in my hair so you can hold me exactly where you want me--it'd feel so good, Chuck,” he adds, seeing the uncertain twist to those flushed lips. “Having you move me, control me-- _hh_. I, it'd be really great.”

Chuck’s chest heaves as he takes in a deep, shaking breath and lets it out again. “God,” he mutters. “Okay. What else?”

“You could shove me down and just take me, not bother to prep me much first,” Mike says, suddenly hoarse, and swallows. “I'd, that would. Wow, haha, yeah.”

Chuck’s body goes taut and he twitches hard, but the way he's breathing is as much anxious as it is turned on. Mike frowns slightly, keeping an eye on him. “That sounds… painful? Though I guess you did say _much_ , didn't you, not _at all_. And you'd… like that?”

“Man, I'd _love_ it,” Mike says honestly. “It wouldn't hurt me, nothing serious, maybe I'd limp for a little--” He has to stop, catch his lip in his teeth and shiver, because _wow_ , yeah, Chuck leaving him sore like that is. Wow. Yeah, definitely, please.

Head tilted, Chuck chews on his lip a minute. “So is minor pain part of the turn-on, or is it only as a by-product of being pushed around?” he mutters to himself. His body isn't shifting now, his voice is steady and darn it, Mike knows that particular lip-nibble--he's distracted thinking about it, trying to puzzle it out and that totally wasn't the point!

This game seemed like _fun_ ; Mike never thought it'd be so hard to get right. Raking a hand through his hair, he tries to figure out how to fix it. “It's kinda drivin’ me crazy not to touch you, by the way,” he says wryly, to get Chuck off that train of thought.

Chuck stops chewing on his lip and snorts. (Success!) “Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you suggested this.”

Mike shrugs. “Yeah, but I figure I can just tell you all the things I'd like to do to you instead. Like, I really wish I could suck on your nipples right now--”

“ _Mikey!_ ” Chuck yelps, tugging at his bonds as his body twists and then goes limp, breath shuddering. Ohhh yeah, okay, this definitely works better.

“God, Chuck,” Mike breathes. “I love it when you do that, buddy, you're so hot. I want to kiss you everywhere, I want to suck your fingers until you moan for me, I want to mark your neck and shoulders and thighs so you can see everywhere I've been--”

Chuck squirms against the bed, gasping, hips twitching up into thin air. His jeans look pretty uncomfortable by now.

“I want to just kiss you for hours, man. I want to get you all worked up and then take you out in Mutt, do some errands, let you cool down and then talk you up again, do that until you think you're losing your mind and then I'll make you come. If I have to carry you up to your room I'll know I did it right.”

Chuck’s mouth is open, lips bitten flushed and shining, and his hips slide from side to side as he writhes. He's making little shaky sounds, high and breathless. “ _Ah, ah, hhah,_ oh my _god_.”

Watching him, Mike is feeling pretty breathless himself. He's not hurting yet, but it won't take long at this rate. “I want to see how many times in a row you can come. I want--”

“ _Nhh!_ I-ideally?” Chuck breaks in, and it takes Mike a moment to understand the question.

Then his mouth drops open and his gut clenches with heat. “Or, you know, usually, either way,” he says, voice rasping.

“P-personal best is fffour,” Chuck pants. “Took a few _ahh_ hours, though. Low-- _ohhh_ end is--two.”

Mike just kind of. Sits a minute. He's torn between grinning like an idiot because of _course_ Chuck has that information, has done tests to see what he can do, and groaning to himself because now he's got that image in his mind and he can't touch himself _or_ Chuck.

“Mikey?” Chuck sounds uncertain and Mike swallows and tries to pull himself together.

“Y-yeah, dude. Right here. Just, uh, a little startled, all good though.”

“You don't s-sound startled,” Chuck says, falling still for a moment, breathing hard. “You--sound turned on.”

Mike rolls his eyes even though Chuck can't see it. “Gee, Chuckles, I wonder why that could be. Maybe because now I'm thinking of you touching yourself for _hours_ to test that?”

Chuck licks his lips, twists and arches. “And that turns you _ahh_ on?”

Mike clenches his hands on his thighs to keep from reaching out. “Of _course_ it does, man! Wouldn't it turn you on to think about me doing that?”

Chuck husks a breathless laugh. “Wha-at, testing your own refractory _nnnh_ period?”

Mike snorts. “No, touching myself for hours.”

Chuck lets out a shaky sigh, hands twisting in the ties. “Yeah, okay. That's--pretty hot.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Mike says pointedly. “Exactly. Sucking on my own fingers, pretending they're yours, running my hands down my body…” He's wondering if this is dumb, if maybe he should shut up and go back to what was already working, and then Chuck moans softly, shivers.

“ _God. Mikey._ ” His shoulders and upper chest are pink, his face so red his freckles are hidden.

Encouraged, Mike shifts a little and goes on. “Reaching down, touching myself, getting off fast so I've got the time to try again, workin’ myself up again. It'd take a while, it does for me, and I'd be a sweaty mess by the end--”

Making a cracked noise of protest, Chuck arches off the bed, shuddering. “ _Ahah, ah,_ oh _god,_ Mikey stop!”

“--but I'd--” Mike bites the rest off as soon as Chuck says it, flattens hands on his own thighs and rubs gently, grounding himself, keeping control. He waits to speak again as Chuck twitches and shivers and tries to hold himself still, slowly coming down again from the brink. Holy crap, he was really that close just from listening to Mike talk about it. Wow, that's. Really hot. Shaking his head, he chews on his lip, watching the tremors running through Chuck.

“You okay, buddy?” he says after a minute.

Chuck gasps in a breath and nods. “Yeah-ahahh,” he says unsteadily. “Yeah, I, _haahh_ , I'm good.”

“God, you're _so hot_ ,” Mike says helplessly. “Okay, you're good. Okay. So uh, let's see. I, I wanna see what happens if I put my fingers in your mouth when we're just hanging out sometime.” Chuck moans long and shaky, so Mike keeps going. “I'll push them in, stay there a minute and then pull away, go on like nothing happened, keep surprising you all day like that. See how long before you can't take it anymore.”

Whimpering a stream of broken noises, Chuck is writhing again and talking, almost incoherent between the moans. Mike manages to pick out something like “--’d be so _good_ Mikey _aahaahh--_ please, god yes _nnnnhh aha_ \--” and fastens his hands hard on his thighs to keep from reaching out to touch.

“I wondered if you’d like that,” he says huskily.

“-- _nnnh, god_ yes,” Chuck gasps, twists again and goes mostly still, only his hips twitching. He heaves for breath, grimaces faintly.

“Everything all right, man?”

“Oh-- _nggh_ , it's nothing, just--my jeans kinda. _Nnh._ Too tight.”

“Chuckles, I can fix that for you, no problem. Want me to get them open?”

Chuck pauses. “Just the jeans,” he says, checking.

“Just the jeans,” Mike says gently. “I won't touch anything you don't want me to.”

Chuck looks awkward, starts, “It's not that I don't _want_ \--”

“Dude, chill, I get it,” Mike says, and Chuck squeaks as he pops the button, pulls down the zipper, careful not to put any more pressure on. Mike tugs the denim open a little wider and leaves it there. Chuck takes a deep breath and relaxes slightly.

“Better?” Mike says.

“Yeah.” Chuck licks his lips. “So, um, you want me to shove you around and, uh, do things to you?”

Mike is caught open-mouthed for a long moment before he swallows and answers hoarsely. “Yeah. God, yeah, Chuck.”

Chuck nods. “Let me guess,” he says, lips quirking dryly. “Push you down on Mutt’s hood?”

 _Oh._ Okay wow _geez_ um. Mike huffs softly in shock, just sort of curls around the throbbing ache of his hard-on and breathes. He hadn't actually planned to mention that particular fantasy anytime soon because _car_ and _limited privacy_ and Chuck is barely willing to show any skin around _Mike_ , if there's no guarantee they won't be interrupted he absolutely won't agree.

“Mikey?” Chuck sounds uncertain again. “Bro, you have to talk to me, I can't see you. Am I wrong?”

“No,” Mike says. He automatically tries to control the way his voice hitches and gasps, as usual almost succeeds. “No-- _hh_ \--dude, you're not--wrong.”

Chuck grins, flushed and pleased. “I wish I could see you right now,” he says. “But then I'd probably come just from that, and that'd mess up your experiment.”

Mike digs his fingers into his thighs, straightening up. “You sure?” he says. “Cuz I _-_ I could--take the blindfold off, we-- _hff_ \--could just forget about the--”

“Mike,” Chuck says sternly, although a smile still twitches at the corners of his mouth, “we had a deal. You're not breaking the deal, are you?”

“No.” Mike huffs a laugh. “No. Okay.” He swallows, reminds himself that Chuck wants him to be louder, won't be annoyed if his voice shows what he's feeling, and then he can't help masking it by habit anyway. “Fine, buddy, you want to stick to the deal, let's stick it. I want to drive you so crazy you don't want to stop, can't even think about stopping, you just want to come again and again until you're a sticky, sweaty mess with your hair stuck to your face, and then I want to hold you until you stop shaking, clean you up because you're too worn out to do it yourself.”

Chuck’s mouth is open and Mike can't tell what his expression is, but he's not moving like that was a turn-on. (This whole dirty-talk thing is still way harder than Mike thought, darn it.) “God, Mikey,” he says softly, and that's definitely a good tone of voice even if Mike can't quite read it, but it's not aroused, that wasn't sexy enough.

He hurries on, trying to get it right again. “The next time you save all our butts, I want to pull Mutt over and suck you right there in the passenger seat, make you feel as amazing as you are. Or I could get myself ready before we go out, park somewhere dark and quiet without explaining why, and then I'll climb into your lap and ride you as long as you want. God it'd feel so good to have you in me…” Mike has to break off to pant. He's turning himself on almost as much as Chuck, who is whining and twisting again, hips bucking against nothing. At least it's working again, and not long to go from the looks of it. “I'd probably lose it, want to go way faster than you, but you’d get to set the speed, buddy. I'd let you do whatever you wanted. I want to make you feel so good, Chuck.”

“ _\--anh, ahh,_ god _Mikey_ \--”

“Yeah,” Mike says, throat dry. “You sound amazing, I love the noises you make, I wish I could record them while we're doing this so I could just put that on any time I need to get off. What do you think, I'd be lying there listening to you and touching myself, imagining it's you, imagining you're in me, rocking in all slow and deep and I'm desperate, trying to get you to go faster but you know what you're doing, you know exactly how to take me apart and you're going to do it--”

“ _\--omigod Mike_ \--” Chuck throws back his head, arches up and twists against the air, then freezes there, tremors shaking his body. It takes longer than Mike expected for him to collapse, and shudders keep running through him for minutes after.

For a long few seconds Mike closes his eyes and just--deals. Yeah he really wants to reach down and follow Chuck right over that edge, but he already said he wouldn't. He'll be fine. He can handle waiting a little longer.

He reaches over and puts a hand on Chuck’s wrist just below the cord. “You doin’ okay?” he says quietly. “You want these off?”

“Yes,” Chuck says in a shaky voice. “And yes.”

Mike undoes both cords with a few quick jerks, then gets the blindfold off when Chuck fumbles at it. Chuck is curling into himself, looking pale and shaken, and that's not right at all. Worried, Mike puts a hand on his cheek and Chuck presses into it almost desperately. “You okay, man?” Mike asks. “You want a hug or--” Chuck is nodding emphatically, so Mike stretches out beside him on the bed and wraps his arms around those narrow shoulders. Chuck twists to face him, gets one arm around Mike and the other hand against Mike's chest, and clings, head lowered. He's holding on almost bruisingly hard, like they're in freefall and Mike's the one wearing the parachute, and occasionally a shiver runs through him.

Mike bites his lip. “Did I… say something wrong, or anything?”

Chuck shakes his head, quick and dismissive. Okay, so that's not even close. So what...? “It was just really intense, okay?” Chuck mumbles. “Everything's okay. I just. Can we just, do this for a while?”

“Yeah, of course, man! I like holding you, no problem there. You sure that's all you need?”

“It's a lot,” Chuck says, and Mike wishes the guy wasn't always so embarrassed by having needs even when they're totally reasonable, but that's Chuck.

“It's really not, dude,” Mike tells him, and settles in, listening to Chuck’s breathing slow and ease. They lie quiet for some time, and by the time Chuck shifts and makes a dissatisfied noise Mike has mostly settled to a low thrum of arousal, the ache sliding away.

“Ugh,” Chuck says. “I'm all gross and sticky.”

Mike grins, raising his eyebrows. “You were the one who wanted to keep your clothes on.”

Chuck glares at him, then thumps his head vengefully against Mike's shoulder. “You _know_ why,” he says.

Mike pats his back. “Yeah, I know, man. So, you wanna clean up or what? I, uh, you still want to do that thing or should we--”

“Yeah,” Chuck says quickly, hands tightening against Mike. “We had a deal. Unless… unless you don't--”

“Dude, don't even,” Mike says. “Yes I still want to. Okay?”

“Okay,” Chuck says, quiet. “Okay. Let's--if you put on the blindfold, I'll clean up and we can. Do that.”

“Cool,” Mike says cheerfully.

\---

Chuck skins off his clothes once Mike can't see him, cleans up fast and pulls his jeans back on. He still feels ridiculous doing this with pants on, but Mike insists that it's not a big deal and if it makes Chuck feel more secure it's worth it. Chuck doesn't think it should make a difference since he's commando now and he's leaving the jeans open; there's no logical reason having his legs covered should make him feel better. It seems to work anyway, so reluctantly he keeps going along with it. (Maybe one of these days it'll stop being necessary, he'll stop being quite so broken. He can hope.)

He turns back to the bed and Mike is blindfolded and sprawled naked on his back, arms stretched to either side where the cords are. Chuck has to swallow, climbing over him to sit down. (Mike is so sexy, he's never going to get used to it no matter how long this lasts.)

“Okay,” Chuck says, high and nervous. “Are you really okay with me tying you up?”

“Yeah! Sounds like fun,” Mike says, smiling in his direction. “Seriously, man, you can do anything you want. I'll let you know if there's a problem.”

“Yeah, no, there needs to not be a problem in the first place,” Chuck says a little shrilly, and coughs to bring his voice back down. “Which is why I want to tell you what I'm thinking of, so you can tell me if you have problems with any of it so I don't mess this up or hurt you or piss you off or--”

“Chuck! Man, it's _fine_ , none of that's gonna happen, okay? But that's fine, good idea, I can reassure you this way.”

He doesn't even know what Chuck’s thinking of and he's still positive it can't _possibly_ be an issue. If it was anyone but Mike, Chuck is pretty sure that kind of total confidence would be obnoxious, indistinguishable from arrogance--but Mike isn't arrogant, despite having every reason to be. He's just ridiculously optimistic.

“So, what have you got for me?” he prompts, and Chuck sucks in a deep breath. He can do this.

It's less impossible to say with Mike's eyes covered, but still not easy. He pushes words out anyway. “You almost never make noise. --No, shut up a minute,” he adds when Mike winces and opens his mouth. “I was thinking…” Breathe, you can say it, he said you could do whatever and if he doesn't want to he'll just say no, he'll just say no and you won't do it and everything will be fine, he won't hate you. He wants you to ask for things, it's his fault if he doesn't like the results, right?

Chuck breathes in again and says, “I was thinking that when you're getting close, you get louder, I mean barely loud enough to hear but still, more than usual. So. If. If I got you close and then stopped, and did that a few times, maybe, maybe that would, you'd start being louder. I thought.” He closes his eyes, focuses on his breathing so he won't freak out, then looks at Mike. “So. What, uh, what about that?”

Mike's smile looks wry, but at least he's smiling and not mad, he doesn't hate Chuck. “Man, you just want to see how desperate you can make me.”

Chuck flinches, but Mike looks as amused as anything, so maybe he didn't mean it as the horrible accusation it sounds like. Mike tilts his head back and stretches, arching, and Chuck’s mouth goes dry at the flex and shift of muscles all across his torso.

“You want me sweating and writhing and begging you for it, don't you?” Mike says, settling back down, and Chuck whimpers, then realizes Mike's smile looks distinctly smug. The sneaky jerk is doing this on _purpose_.

Okay, wow, no, he's not getting away with that. Eyes narrow behind his bangs, Chuck kneels up, leans over to get his hands on Mike's wrists, and throws his weight over to press them into the bed hard. Mike's mouth drops open and Chuck briefly wishes the blindfold was gone; his eyes are probably wide behind it and Chuck wants to see them. Mike’s chest heaves as he gasps silently, which gives Chuck the confidence to say, “Maybe I do want that. You did say earlier you were willing to beg, didn't you?”

Mike's face flushes darker under the olive skin as he swallows and grins, breathless. “Yeah, I did. Meant it, too. Sounds good, let's try it.”

“Wha--are you sure?” Startled, Chuck lets up on his wrists and Mike's hands twitch, but stay where they are. “You don't like waiting, though, and I'd be making you wait a lot.”

“Pff,” Mike says, dismissive. “It's not something I'd do on purpose, but if you want it that way I'm fine with it, dude. It's still sex, just slower. It's not like it's gonna be a trial to put up with.”

“Mm, yeah, about that,” Chuck says dubiously, and tugs Mike’s arms straight to start tying them down. “If the point is to make you desperate enough to actually make noise, you're going to really want to come. How will I know if I go too far?”

“Too far? What the heck would be _too far_ , man, it'll be--”

Chuck rolls his eyes and checks the tightness of the cord around Mike’s wrist. “If I make you wait two hours before I let you climax? Or three? You think that sounds like fun, you could handle that no problem?”

“I'm… not sure I'd say that,” Mike says, sounding a little stunned.

“Yeah, exactly,” Chuck says, straddling his chest to get to the other wrist.

Distracted, Mike arches up into him lazily. “Remind me why I'm wearing this blindfold?”

“Because you swore you didn't mind and it makes things easier for me,” Chuck says, tension creeping into his neck and shoulders. He _knows_ Mike is joking, just means to point out he likes looking at Chuck, he honestly doesn't mind wearing the thing, but at the back of Chuck’s mind that wicked little voice is explaining that Mike only agreed to humor him, he hates the blindfold or he wouldn't have said anything, it was a subtle hint, how stupid do you have to be to miss that-- “I'll take it off if you want.”

“What? No! Dude, I'm fine, c’mon, it was a joke!”

He breathes in, breathes out, checks the cord isn't too tight on this wrist. “Yeah, I know.” It's a slight relief, but it's also amazing how much hearing someone say ‘It was a joke’ _doesn't_ help; it's too easy, too often used as a cop-out or to not-quite-hide an unpleasant truth.

Apparently Mike can tell somehow that he's not persuaded. “I'm sorry, man,” he sighs, and his hands jerk against the cords. “--oh. Right. Well, shoot, now I can't hug you. The blindfold is totally fine, anything you want is fine with me, we're good, okay?”

He sounds relaxed and a little concerned, not at all annoyed by Chuck’s dumb issues. He means it; everything’s still good. That does the trick, and the stupid unreasoning voice shuts up again. “Okay,” Chuck says, as his shoulders slowly ease from their tight hunch.

“Come down here, let me apologize,” Mike suggests, and Chuck leans down for a kiss that starts out warm and comforting and then turns hungry. By the time he straightens up, they're both breathing hard and Chuck is wondering for the thousandth time what he did to deserve this guy.

“So, um. What was I. I was saying something,” Chuck says.

“You were saying how you were going to make me wait for hours,” Mike says promptly.

Chuck rolls his eyes again. “No, I was saying you probably don't want me to do that!”

“Dude, if it'll be fun for you, I want to do it!”

Chuck huffs in exasperation and rubs his face with both hands. “Mikey, that only works if it's fun for you too. If you don't have fun, I'm not gonna be happy, you get that, right? I need you to be okay, and I need to _know_ you're okay. At the same time, I'm gonna be pushing you, and I'm not necessarily going to know if it's too much, so you're going to have to tell me. Do you think you can do that?”

Mike shrugs and smiles. “Sure! No problem.”

\---

“Okay,” he pants, half an hour later, “I think-- _hh_ \--I get it now.”

“Mm?” Chuck says, mouth full, and pushes Mike's hips down as they twitch up yet again. He knows Mike is trying to control himself, but at this point his body is winning out over his mind as often as not. Pulling off, Chuck looks up at Mike's face, which is flushed dark, open-mouthed and quietly gasping. “Get what?”

“Don't stop. Please-- _hahh_ \--don't--Keep touching me,” Mike says. His hips flex and quiver under Chuck’s restraining hands. Chuck puts a thumb where his mouth was, runs it down the length and up again. Mike's breathing shudders. “I get what-- _nh_ \--you were--worried about.”

Chuck goes still. “Are you okay?”

“ _Hh_ yeah! Yeah I'm fff-fine. Just. I get it. This’s-- _hhh_ \--intense.”

“Oh.” Chuck relaxes again. Mike's still okay, everything's all right. “Yeah. I don't want to push you too far, which is why you have to tell me if you stop being okay.” He did think briefly of trying to explain safewords to Mike, and then he tried to calculate the probability of Mike actually using a safeword instead of trying to push through his own resistance. It was miniscule enough that he decided to just pay attention and try to get Mike to communicate. So far nothing terrible’s happened.

Mike nods. “Got it. If--if you did this an-- _nnh-_ -nother two hours, I dunno-- _fff_ \--if I could t-take it.”

Chuck snorts. He is _pretty sure_ it'd take a lot less time than that to make Mike lose his mind. “Well, I guess you'd better start making noise before then,” he says dryly, and Mike jerks.

“Oh, god, Chuck,” he breathes. “Please.”

“Please what, bro?” Chuck pins Mike's hips firmly to the bed, lowers his head and licks, lingering on the best spots. Mike has reached the point of breathing audibly, but even when he shivers under Chuck’s tongue, his moan is a voiceless whisper. When he gets this way his voice drops to an undertone, too, quiet enough that his gasps for breath are sometimes louder.

“P-please don't-- _ahahh_ \--make me wait--that long?”

“I won't, man, I'll quit as soon as you need me to,” Chuck says, sliding one hand up from his hip to rub his side soothingly. “But if you just open your mouth and moan for me, it'll happen a lot sooner.”

“You say that like it's-- _ahh_ \--easy. It's _nnh_ -not.”

“I know, but you do harder stuff all the time. You can do this, too.”

Mike twitches, arches his back, breath rough. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “Yeah-- _hhh_. Okay.”

Chuck shivers and licks his lips, caught by the sight of him, the way his hands twist and jerk against the ties, the arch of his neck and the flex and tremble of his stomach muscles. Chuck’s been hard for a while now, and is glad both to not be trapped in his jeans and that Mike can't see him. “Good,” he says in a rather higher voice, and goes back to licking Mike.

And Mike continues to not make noise beyond soft gasps and hitches of breath. Chuck has already tried getting him to the edge and then stopping and waiting until he settled down again, and while it got some very gratifying gasps and quiet, breathless complaints, that didn't get any more volume out of him. Stretched out teasing doesn't seem to be a success either, although it's possible that Chuck just hasn't drawn it out long enough yet.

Maybe he needs a new tactic, something to pass a little more time and see if the wait helps. See if getting Mike more worked up does the trick eventually. Chuck shifts up Mike's body to toy with his nipples and tries to think what to say. Once again he's glad Mike can't look at him, or saying anything would be impossible.

“So,” he says, “sounded like you think a lot about having me i-in you.” His whole face goes hot, but for once it's safe to ignore it because no one can see him.

Mike hisses a breath in through his teeth. “Yeah-- _hahh_. I do.”

Okay, of _course_ he wouldn't hesitate to answer a question like that because it's _Mike_ , what even is shame anyway, damn him, but the point was supposed to be turning _him_ on more, not Chuck. Damn, okay. Stop thinking about it.

Mike twists slowly under Chuck’s hands, pressing up into his touch, breath catching and head tossing as his fingers rub and pinch and tug.

“So you want me to just--shove you down and take you,” Chuck says, going for the most successful image he tried earlier, “have you over Mutt’s hood like that. Not even being careful, just pounding you like I-I don't even care if it hurts because I know you _like_ it that way, right? You like being pushed around, you want me to be rough with you--”

As unnerving as the sentiment is to him, the effect it has on Mike is completely worth it. He throws his head back, hips twitching, hands clenching in the cuffs. His legs spread a little, ohh wow.

“Oh god,” he says in a near whisper, “oh god oh god _hhh_ oh--Chuck, god yeah-- _ah_ \--I, please yeah, ‘d love it, I-- _mhh_ \--god.”

So quiet, and it's still enough to make Chuck groan softly. Okay, Mike is definitely getting more worked up, keep going. “Take you hard, leave you sore and limping afterwards but you'd come so hard, wouldn't you--”

Mike's back arches, hips grinding against the air as his legs spread wider. He's panting open-mouthed, twitching with every move of Chuck’s fingers, muscles jumping.

Chuck has to swallow before he can speak. “Wouldn't you, Mikey?” He lifts his hands for a moment. “Come on, talk to me.”

For a second Mike just gasps and shivers, twisting into the absent touch like if he squirms hard enough it'll come back. Then he remembers how to make words. “Please,” he whispers, “please, _ah_ I would, I'd c-come s-so-- _ahhh_ god please Chuck ple-- _hahh-_ -ease, please let me, I'm s-so, I want, please, please, I--c-can I?”

Oh _god_ that's not fair. Chuck closes his eyes, bites his lip, but can't stifle the moan over Mike begging to come. _God_.

He's conflicted; he hates to say no when Mike sounds like this, but they've made absolutely no progress on the making noise front. The more turned on Mike gets, the more his volume drops; the habit seems to be enough to keep his voice down even when he's losing his mind. And of course he wants to come, but he did agree to wait, it's not like Chuck sprang it on him out of the blue. So long as it's still fun for him, Chuck ought to keep going. Although Mike _is_ kind of out of it right now; he might have forgotten this isn't an endurance test--

“Are you still okay?” He nibbles anxiously on his lip.

“ _Hhh--_ yeah, I,” comes the breathed response. “ _Fff_ feels good, Chuck, _hahh_ , please. Please?”

Chuck sags a little in relief. Mike didn't even hesitate, he’s still all right. “Not yet,” he says reluctantly, and Mike’s breath catches, hitches in a pattern like a series of inaudible whimpers. Chuck bites down harder on his lip and focuses on not grinding against the bed. “Mike,” he says shakily, “do something for me, okay? Try to talk louder than a whisper. You think you can do that, man?”

Breath rasping in his throat, Mike moves his mouth like he means to speak, stops. Does it again, again, finally heaves in a breath and says unsteadily, “O-okay,” in a quiet but audible voice.

“ _Good_ ,” Chuck says, and reaches down to stroke him once in reward. Mike's hips push into his hand, Mike's shoulders come off the bed as he curls forward in response, but he doesn't make a sound. Chuck sighs and pulls away, goes back to Mike's chest.

“Okay,” he says, rubbing his thumbs back and forth over Mike's nipples so he jerks and quivers, “so here's the new plan. You keep talking as long as I'm touching you, and keep your voice above a whisper--I'd prefer a normal level, but as long as you're not too quiet I won't complain--and as long as you're talking I won't stop touching you. Okay? Let me hear you and this will go a lot faster.”

“God, Chuck,” Mike says, but it's almost a whisper again.

Chuck pauses. “Louder, Mikey,” he says.

Mike’s breath catches and shudders. “Okay,” he says, audible once more, “but-- _hhh_ \--I don't even know wh-- _ahh!_ ”

Soft as it is, the cry sends a rush of heat through Chuck and he's about to reward Mike by leaning down to suck him when he realizes the muscles under his hands have gone taut. He looks up and Mike is rigid, straining against the ties on his wrists, hands in fists.

Holy shit. “Mikey?!”

“Chuck,” Mike gasps, “blindfold.”

 _Fuck._ Chuck dives to get the blindfold off, fumbling at it with panicked fingers. “It's okay, bro, I got you, I'm right here, you're okay--” Finally it comes free and Mike is staring up at him with wild round eyes. He looks past Chuck, turns his head fast to see the rest of the room, eyes flicking from one place to the next. The next thirty seconds seem to last forever, but as he keeps watching the empty room the wildness slowly leaves his face and the tension in his body seeps away.

Chuck’s hands are shaking and he feels sick. He pushed too hard and this is the result, Mike looking freaked out like he never does over _anything_. Loser, the familiar voice chimes in, idiot, you messed this up real bad and now you're sitting here like a dumbass and he's still tied up, he needs comfort but he probably doesn't want it from you, how long are you going to leave him like that while you think about how bad you feel--

“Whew,” Mike says, looking up at him with a wry smile, finally relaxed, “sorry about that. I feel kinda dumb now.”

“You feel dumb?” Chuck says in disbelief, jolted from his paralysis, and leans over to work the cord loose on the nearer wrist. “You don't have anything to feel dumb _about_ , Mikey, I'm the idiot who--”

“Hey, hang on a sec,” Mike says, “you don't have to--oh, well.” He blinks as the knot comes out, reaches up and grabs Chuck when he was about to go for the other wrist. “Nah, just one is fine. Hey, can I get a hug?”

Chuck drops onto him and clings, closed eyes prickling with shame and self-directed rage. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Mikey I messed it all up I'm so sorry I didn't mean--”

“Hey, shh,” Mike says, wrapping his free arm tight around Chuck’s shoulders. “Dude, you didn't do anything wrong, okay? That was all me.”

Chuck freezes for a moment, then thumps a fist into the shoulder he's not lying on, caught between fury at himself, anger at Mike for the obvious lie, and gratitude that he's still concerned enough about Chuck to try to protect him that way. “Don't--how much of an idiot do you think I am, Mike? I was the one who was pushing you, I was the one who freaked you out--”

“Dude!” Mike says, squeezing him briefly tighter. “Listen to me, would you? I didn't know that was going to happen, all right? So there's no way _you_ knew about it, and you can't prevent somethin’ if you don't even know it's a possibility. All right? Quit blaming yourself, it wasn't your fault.”

“I shouldn't have kept pushing,” Chuck says miserably. “I should have just let you come and stopped--”

“Whoa, are you kidding? That was incredible, Chuck, I didn't want you to stop!”

Startled out of his dismay, Chuck blinks up at Mike to find him wide-eyed and grinning, apparently completely earnest. “You… What?”

Mike rubs his hand gently over Chuck’s bare back, soothing. “I _liked_ it. You know how I said I like being pushed around?” Chuck nods cautiously. “Well, apparently I also like being pushed in general. I liked you not letting up on me, I liked trying to do what you wanted and getting rewarded when I did it--” He stops, lets out a shaky breath. “Really liked that. God, when you said I did good that felt almost as good as your hand on me. I guess that's weird, but--”

“No,” Chuck says quietly, “that makes sense.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. For you it does. I mean,” he adds in fairness, “other people too, you're not alone, but I can see it for you.”

“Oookay…”

“Anyway.” Chuck takes a breath. He feels better knowing that Mike was enjoying being pushed, really wasn't hurting or scared or angry. It loosens the panicky tightness in his chest, makes it easier to breathe, but if it wasn't that-- “So, what did happen?”

“Eh.” Mike grimaces. “Like I said, that was me.”

“ _Mikeeey_ \--”

“I know! Gimme a sec, okay? I've never--I never thought about this before.” His hair's all messy and his bangs are everywhere, so it's easier than usual to tell he's frowning as he thinks. He takes a breath and bites his lip. “Okay. God, this sounds so stupid. You remember when I was a junior cadet and I got made full cadet early, right?”

Chuck nods, remembering how excited Mike had been about moving into the barracks with the other cadets, his grin lighting up the world as he talked a hundred miles an hour. He'd been vibrating with delight while Chuck had tried to be happy for him instead of feeling like he was losing his best friend.

“So, for a little while there I was the youngest one in the barracks. And uh, you remember that age, I'd just figured out about jerking off and how great it was, but lying there at night, I was surrounded by all these older boys.” Chuck is getting a bad feeling about this story. “And of course I didn't want anyone hasslin’ me about it, and I knew they would, but also--” He stops and bites his lip again and Chuck clings to his patience as he prays for a happy ending. “God, this is just so dumb. Okay, so, I used to tell myself this story while I was lying there trying to get off without making any noise. I told myself if anyone heard me, they'd come investigate, and they'd--when they found out what I was up to, they might just--join in. Like, push me down and take whatever they wanted. Like any of them would even have been interested, I mean, I was a knobby little stick at that age, but. Anyway.”

Relieved by the hypothetical phrasing of that last sentence, Chuck drops his head to Mike's shoulder with a gentle thump. Nothing happened. Thank you, thank you, nothing happened.

“Uh, you okay, buddy?”

Chuck has rarely been more grateful for Mike's straightforward manner of thinking. He's not likely to guess what dark alleys Chuck’s imagination was straying down thanks to his storytelling. “Yeah, bro,” he sighs. “I'm good. So what's that got to do with--” Wait. Mike made a noise and then he flipped out and needed to see that no one else was in the room. “Oh.”

“Yeah, I, like, didn't realize I'd kinda fooled myself into believing it. Like I said, really dumb, huh?”

“No, not really. I mean, orgasms would make a pretty powerful conditioning mechanism, so if you kept thinking about that for months, it could totally have a lasting effect. I guess I'm a little surprised it had that strong a negative effect this long after the fact, but the effect itself makes sense.”

Mike is abruptly suspiciously quiet, and when Chuck looks up at him his smile looks sheepish. “I, uh. Didn't actually say I stopped thinking about it when I got older. It was kinda sexy!” he says defensively when Chuck stares. “I mean, you know, getting pushed around and stuff. I imagined it was some of the guys I trusted, or y’know, if I had a crush on anyone…” He shrugs, eyes wandering away from Chuck’s. “It changed as other stuff changed.”

Chuck recognizes the distant look coming into those dark eyes, and he likes it as little as he did the first time. “All right,” he says, watching Mike's face. “So we're actually going directly against years of inadvertent conditioning when I tell you to be louder. Couldn't you have mentioned that sooner?”

The distraction works. “Dude,” Mike says indignantly, “I just told you I didn't know! I thought it was just that habits are hard to break, I didn't realize I was going to have a whole stupid _thing_ about it--”

“Hey, it's not stupid!” Chuck glares at him. “I realize it's annoying to have issues that make no rational sense, but--” welcome to my life! No, that's not helpful. “Focusing on how dumb they are isn't going to help any more than ignoring them. You have to acknowledge them in order to figure out how to work around them.”

“Mm. Well, pretty sure I'm fine as long as I can see. Like, I liked the blindfold fine, it wasn't a problem until, you know, I made a noise and suddenly my brain was convinced someone was…” He stops, shrugs.

Chuck swallows, carefully avoids thinking about the nightmare image of faceless cadets gathering around Mike--nope nope nope, focus. Got to solve the problem at hand. “Okay,” he says steadily, “so you think it'd be okay to try this again sometime so long as we leave the blindfold out of it?”

Mike stares at him. “Sometime? I--uh, are we done?”

Chuck stares back. “You--I thought--you probably wouldn't want to do that again right now?”

Mike grins. “Nope, still up for it! Heh. Definitely still _up_ for it,” he adds, and Chuck groans and smacks his shoulder.

“Okay. Okay.” Pulling away, Chuck sits up and looks him over. Yeah, he's still looking pretty interested despite everything. Trust Mike not to be put off by minor stuff like an unconscious trigger pulling up a panic reaction like that. “So what do you want to do?”

“As long as I can see, I think I’ll be able to try making some noise for you,” Mike says, and the casual shrug is almost enough to distract Chuck from the fact that his cheeks are going rosy.

“You're blushing,” Chuck says, charmed and puzzled.

“Oh, yeah?” Apparently having attention called to it makes it worse. Mike bends his head distractedly from one side to the other, stretching his neck, an uncomfortable fidget Chuck rarely gets to see.

“Mike, why are you blushing?”

Mike makes an annoyed grumbling noise and rakes his free hand through his hair. “It's just so dumb! I taught myself this, it should be easy to quit if I want to! I don't get why I'm havin’ such a hard time with it.” He makes a face, sighs. “And I wanna make you happy, give you what you want. Probably looks like I haven't even been trying--”

“Whoa, hey, no!” Chuck says in alarm. “No, dude, don't even. I know you've been trying,” he says, lower, and leans down to kiss him briefly. “You were doing really well, you--you did good for me, okay?” He can feel himself blushing, saying it; it feels presumptuous to think that Mike would want to hear that from Chuck, even though Mike just _said_ the praise really did it for him. Anxiety is stupid.

Mike's eyes are wide and dark as he licks his lips. “Yeah?”

Oh. “Yeah,” Chuck says, hushed. “God, yeah. I could see how hard it was for you, but you kept trying for me, and you did what I asked even though you were working against all your wiring, that's just--” He's about to say it's impressive, amazing, the kind of thing Mike always says to him and sounds so genuine, but that's not actually what Mike is asking for, is it. The kind of praise he wants isn't applause and adulation, which he just shrugs away, but simple approval. “It was really good,” he finishes, and has a second to think how _lame_ he sounds--

\--before Mike's eyelashes flutter, he shivers all over, and his body goes loose and relaxed. “Oh,” he mumbles. “Good. Wanna be good for you.”

Oh-ho-kay, wow. Chuck swallows, wide-eyed. “You are, Mikey. You're so good.”

Eyes half-lidded, Mike smiles up at him, hazy and sweet. “‘S good.” Stretching lazily, he puts his free arm back out where the cord is and leaves it there.

“You want me to tie you back up? You sure that's a good idea, bro?”

“Mm-hm,” Mike says peacefully, and that seems to be it.

Chuck reminds himself that Mike said the problem was with the blindfold, not being tied up, and carefully secures the cord around his wrist again. Then he sits back and inspects the situation. Mike looks kind of dazed, almost dreamy, all sleepy dark eyes and contented smile, lying quiescent with his wrists tied and his legs apart, hips unmoving even though he's still hard. On the one hand this odd state he's in is sort of unnerving. On the other, he's clearly happy. Maybe Chuck should just go with the flow?

“Okay,” he says, swallowing. “You were going to try to be louder for me. Think you can do that?”

Mike licks his lips and nods instead of speaking. Still a bit unsettling, but Chuck can deal with it.

He leans down to Mike's chest and flicks his tongue over one nipple. Mike jerks and gasps. It's nice, but not exactly loud.

“C’mon, Mikey,” Chuck murmurs against his skin, “you can do better than that. Moan for me, yeah?” Fastening his lips around that nipple, he sucks hard, one hand slipping over to play with the other one.

“ _Ah,_ ” Mike says under his breath, “ _hhh, ahhah, oh…_ ” He arches up into Chuck, hips shifting on the bed.

Chuck sighs and lifts his head. He feels like a dick to keep pushing, but Mike did say he wanted to be pushed, he _liked_ it, and this was supposed to be the deal anyway. “Louder, Mike,” he says firmly. “You want me to be able to hear you, right?”

Mike nods again a second late, biting his lip as he looks up at Chuck. His brows are pulled together and anxious, his eyes still dazed. Chuck’s chest hurts.

“You'll get it,” he says to chase away that look. “You did before.” Then he shifts down the bed to get his mouth on Mike’s long neglected hard-on, and the gasp this time is a lot louder. Chuck mouths and licks and sucks gently, listening to the panting and the shaky breaths from above. He figures he can just enjoy this for a while and by then Mike will be worked up enough to make this easier.

It works faster than he expected. Within ten minutes, Mike’s hitching, broken gasps have gotten emphatic, louder if still voiceless, and Chuck pulls off just long enough to say, “You can do it, dude, keep going.” Then he pins Mike's twitching hips to the bed and goes back to enjoying himself.

“ _\--hhhh, ah-ahaahh,_ nnh!”

Chuck’s head snaps up as Mike tenses under him, and he immediately starts stroking Mike's chest and down his sides, soothing, as those dark eyes veer toward the door. “It's all right, bro,” Chuck says hastily, “just me here. That was good.”

This time he relaxes way more easily than he did the first time. It's only a moment before Mike looks back to Chuck, face hopeful and uncertain. (He's never been the type to hide what he feels, but right now he's so open and expressive it feels weird. Like Mike is naked in a way Chuck’s never seen him before, and he's not sure Mike realizes.)

Chuck swallows, staring into that intense gaze. “That was good,” he says again. “You did good. You, uh, you sound really s-sexy moaning like that.”

Mike blinks slowly and smiles, flushed and pleased as he twists against the bed, legs spreading, and Chuck is so hard right now and feels kind of uneasy about it. (With Mike like this, it almost feels like Chuck’s taking advantage of him. Which is probably stupid? Since Mike's obviously pretty happy with the situation. Chuck is going to keep a careful eye on him anyway.)

“You think you can do it again?”

Mike manages a nod, still with that second of delay, like Chuck’s voice has a long way to travel before it reaches him.

“Good. Let's see if we can get you to where you don't have to stop after one, huh? It'll take some time, probably, but we've got plenty of time.”

“ _Hhh_ ,” Mike says, and shifts restlessly.

Chuck can't help smiling, because yeah okay, even when he's not talking Mike can still make it clear that he's kind of tired of this waiting nonsense, he's ready to come anytime now thanks. “Yeah, let's do this. Make some noise for me, Mikey,” he says, and puts his mouth back on Mike.

“ _Hahh, ah--ahhh, hhh,_ mmh--” Tiny moan, tense slightly, flick eyes to the door, but this time instead of going silent again, he gasps aloud in the next second.

Chuck groans against him in reaction, curls his tongue over a sweet spot and sucks harder.

Mike's remaining resistance breaks down fast. Under Chuck’s hands and mouth, his soft gasping turns into a string of the quietest moans and whimpers imaginable, and god it's _amazing_. Every touch, every lick and stroke and tug draws a sound from him, husky and choked and low, but so much more intense to hear than even his shaky breathing.

“--oh _, ahaahh--_ nnh, nh-- _mmhh_ \--”

“Yeah. That's, that's good. _Nnnh--_ ” Chuck is having a problem. Mike is writhing under him, all that smooth muscle flexing and twisting, which is dangerously hot all by itself, but add in the noises Chuck has finally convinced him to make and Chuck is way too close to coming on the spot. He has to pull away, close his eyes and breathe to keep control, hands going still.

A couple of seconds and Mike cries out. Chuck’s eyes fly open and Mike is staring at him, breathing hard, face anxious and desperate and pleading. It takes a startled instant to understand and then Chuck feels like a heartless asshole. “No, man, you're doing good,” he says immediately, hands moving again, “god, Mikey, you're so good. It's okay, keep going, I like it, I-- _nngh_ , god, I-I just don't want to… You're so hot, I can't--you're too much for me. Not your fault, you're good, it's okay.”

Mike relaxes again, or at least loses that look of painful uncertainty; his body is definitely not relaxed, shifting restlessly under Chuck’s hands, pressing up into touches that aren't quite enough. Chuck is keeping them that way deliberately. He's not sure how long it'll take to get Mike this noisy again, and he means to get as much as he can out of this. Mike doesn't seem exactly pleased about it, but he agreed to this. (He likes being pushed, he said so, this is okay.) He'll be fine.

Chuck strokes Mike lightly, plays with his nipples, rubs the insides of his thighs by the crease of his hips, and Mike squirms and gasps and groans. Chuck leaves one hand curled around Mike, moving slowly as he bucks and moans, and leans up to kiss his gasping mouth long and deep. By the time he pulls away Mike is whimpering against his lips, looking flushed and sweaty and wrecked.

“God, you look so good like this,” Chuck says fervently. “You sound so good, I love it, you're amazing. I could listen to you forever.” He ducks to nip and tug at Mike's earlobes and Mike lets out a stuttering moan that almost finishes Chuck right there.

Clinging to self-control, Chuck straightens up. Mike opens his eyes and looks up at him, and his eyes are huge and dark and--wetter than they should be. Chuck’s stomach drops.

“Mikey? You okay?”

A long few seconds pass before Mike nods, but he looks less upset than distracted, like it took a moment for the question to make sense. Chuck tries to swallow his heart back down and thinks about how to figure out what the problem is, assuming there is one, when Mike isn't talking. Probably the smart way is to start with the obvious.

“You really want to come?” he says softly, and this time there's a much shorter pause before Mike nods hard, hips pushing up into Chuck’s hand as Mike _whines._ Oh _god_. Chuck moans himself at the sound, takes a breath and nods back. “Okay,” he says, high and breathless. “Okay, dude. You've done really well, man, you deserve it, all right?”

Mike twists eagerly, little _aha! ahah?_ noises caught in the back of his throat. (It's still disturbing to Chuck to see him like this, so completely given over to sensation that he's lost speech, but at the same time it's still Mike who's writhing and desperate, and _god_ that's _so damn hot._ Hopefully when the sex is over he'll get back to normal and he can explain what happened and Chuck won't have broken him permanently.)

“Okay,” Chuck says, sliding down his body. “Okay.” He licks his hand to get the lube completely slick again, tightens his grip to how Mike likes it, and starts stroking hard and fast, sucking on the very tip.

It takes about five seconds to realize Chuck isn't going to be able to hold out this time. The noises Mike lets out are getting louder and shakier, his chest is flushed, olive skin shining with sweat, and it might not all be too much except Chuck really likes sucking him to start with. Chuck is wound tight and he can feel the edge getting closer with every sound Mike makes. He just hopes Mike comes first, because no way can Chuck keep up this kind of coordinated movement through an orgasm, and making Mike wait again at this point would just be cruel.

Mike's hips are trembling, but he seems to be hanging on the verge, unable to tip over. Chuck gets a flash of his voice, _god you'd feel so good in me_ , and doesn't even think before he slips his free hand between Mike's legs, slides a finger down and under, and presses a fingertip gently, cautiously inside--

Mike makes a choked noise and comes, body arching and taut as he shakes. Chuck swallows and licks, curling in on himself to follow as Mike goes slack. _Freak_ , says the voice at the back of his mind as he shudders through it, _coming without_ _a touch like a desperate, pathetic nerd. Second time today, too._ Chuck finishes, panting, and thinks Yeah. Second time, and Mike thought the first time was really hot. Bet he doesn't think it's pathetic this time either.

The voice doesn't seem convinced, but Chuck is feeling too good to care. He climbs off the bed to clean himself up with a tissue and quickly gets Mike untied. Mike clearly isn't out of his daze yet, but his dopey post-orgasmic grin looks utterly content, so Chuck curls into him and tries not to worry about it. He has an easier time at that than he usually would. (God that was hot. He has to wonder if it'll be any easier getting Mike to make noise the next time, or if they'll have to do this periodically until he unlearns his silence. Mike might complain, but Chuck certainly wouldn't…)

Mike puts his arms around Chuck, trying to pull him even closer, and makes quiet happy noises. Chuck smiles helplessly and settles in. (Chuck might be taller, but Mike's broader and he always ends up the big spoon, apparently even when he's out of it like now. Chuck doesn't argue; it's more satisfying this way anyway, and the familiarity is comforting.)

He has no idea how long they've been cuddling when Mike sighs into his hair and mumbles, “Oh, man.”

Oh god, okay, he's talking again, he's not broken, that's good, it's gonna be okay don't freak out. “H-hey, bro. You doing okay?” Chuck raises his head to look into Mike's face and wishes the endorphins had hung around longer to block out this rising panic.

Mike grins wide and sleepy at him. “Mmm… uh-huh. So okay.”

Chuck stares and breathes and feels the mass of anxiety subside a bit. Mike's not tight around the edges, he's all relaxed and happy even now he's back to normal. He doesn't look mad at all. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” Mike's eyes slide closed and he sighs deep and slow and _nope_ , he can't fall asleep yet, that's not going to work! Chuck has questions he needs answered so he doesn't worry over them all night long.

“Mikey, hey.” He grabs a shoulder and shakes gently. “C’mon man, you gotta stay awake a minute.”

Grumbling noise. Mike blinks his eyes half-open, focuses. “Mmm?”

Okay, how to say it. “Um. Are--are you _sure_ you're okay?”

Mike frowns a little. “Mmh? Yeah, ‘course. ‘m fine, dude. ‘sup?”

“You just, you,” pause, breathe. “You stopped talking. It was kinda weird.”

“Mm.” Mike blinks slowly, smiles. “Felt good, though. All, like, warm. Fuzzy-edged. Couldn' really… reach words, didn' really care. Mmm.” He stretches and shivers. “Sorry, didn' mean t’ worry you. Jus’ felt so good, didn’ wanna fight it.”

It felt good. Chuck relaxes a little more. Okay, that's weird but not bad, maybe he can do some research and find out more about that kind of state just in case it gets triggered again in the future. At least it doesn't seem to be dangerous or have unpleasant aftereffects. “Okay. That's good. I'm glad it was a good thing? I guess?”

Mike squeezes him and shivers again. “Heck yeah,” he mumbles.

He really is okay. Chuck lets out a long breath and relaxes into Mike's hold. He's getting sleepy himself now. Gotta finish checking that everything's okay, though, that Chuck didn't mess up. “And the. The pushing, did I push you too hard this time?”

“Mm? No. God no!” Mike says. “God, Chuckles, you were amazing. So hot. Mmh, loved it.”

All right, so there wasn't a problem, when Mike teared up it was just from the intensity, maybe. Or possibly because he was frustrated and really wanted to come, but he doesn't mind having been like that. Okay. Everything is really okay.

“Mmgrnh,” Mike grumbles. “Dude. C’n _hear_ you thinkin’. Bed. Sleep. ‘Kay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Chuck says, smiling, and bullies Mike into moving so Chuck can pull the covers over him. Mike makes a puzzled noise when Chuck gets up, but it only takes a moment to change for bed and then he's sliding in next to Mike, who's still naked and doesn't seem to care.

Mike wraps around him and hums contentedly. Chuck resigns himself to an awkward awakening in the morning with all that bare skin against him. Right now it's difficult to care, with Mike holding him and so much affection filling Chuck, warming him from the inside out.

“You did really good tonight, Mikey,” he says softly.

Mike's shiver this time is more of a muted twitch, but he still sighs and nuzzles into Chuck’s hair. “Mmh. Love you,” he murmurs.

He used to say that all the time when they were kids. It sounds really different now. Chuck closes his eyes and tries not to wonder how he means it, if he'll still mean it at all when he's not half-asleep. He said it, and right now he means it, and that's the important thing. “Me too,” he sighs. “I love you too.”

Mike makes a sleepy pleased noise and kisses the top of Chuck’s head. Chuck quietly melts.

“‘N y’ll be here, when I wake up, yeah?” Mike mumbles into his hair.

Chuck burrows closer. “Yeah, Mikey,” he whispers. “I'll be here.”

“‘kay,” Mike sighs, and goes still.

Chuck wonders how much one person can feel for someone else and still function. He falls asleep still pondering and feeling the sweet way his heart aches.


End file.
